Death Watch Journal for Kevin Varga – DAY 35

I find myself attempting to stave off depression every day. Each day that I spend on death watch is becoming more of a challenge than the one before. When I first learned of my execution date I found that I would sleep bout three to four hours a night as I feared missing something, as time has gone by I have been sleeping in excess of twelve hours a night and finding it harder and harder to find the desire to get out of bed. Each day is a struggle that finds me apathetic as to whether or not I get up.

I believe that it is due to the fact that I have heard nothing on whether or not I will receive a stay of execution. I have written to people that are supposed to help people in my position to file those writs that your attorney will not file on your behalf, which may sound fantastical to some of you. You may think that the lawyers we have are those that you have seen in the movies or read about in books. Think John Grisham’s character in the book The Chamber and you will know what I mean. The truth of the matter is that our attorneys are for the most part men paid by the state to represent us. These men are given $25,000.00 to prepare out appeal. This may sound like a lot of money to most people, but if you take into consideration the amount of money it takes to hire an investigator to travel to places and interview potential witnesses and similar expenses then you will realize that the money is barely enough for a proper defensive appeal. Our bastions of legal defense are men and women who will do the bare minimum in presenting each client, of which many have several that they “represent”. I am scared now of what may come as a result of hem delaying to the point of my being executed. I want to scream at the top of my lungs and proclaim to the world that I fear this, but the thing is that I know that it would only be a futile effort on my part as I have come to feel incapable of helping myself. My faith in the legal representation is almost non-existent. There are the fears that keep me in my bed fighting with myself each day to even bother getting up. At times I feel like a leaf in a whirlwind, with as much chance of directing my fate.

I know that many of you have been writing on my behalf and that the journal has inspired some to help me, I think that if it weren’t for you out there I would curl into the fetal position and wait for my date. I must find the strength each day, and each day that I do get out and write and not just lie awaiting death is in itself a victory.

I have 56 days to live; I will attempt to stave off the bleakness I have found encroaching upon me as of late. Thank you for listening to me rant. You have helped me just with your patience and giving me this venue.